


Hellfire

by fuzzybatbutts



Series: Demon/Priest AU [1]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Priests, Blasphemy, Church Sex, Coercion, Demon Deals, Demon Sex, Don't Like Don't Read, Exorcisms, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Touching, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Other, Priest Kink, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Hatred, Self-Indulgent, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, bottom mirage, miragehound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-16 23:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20611172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzybatbutts/pseuds/fuzzybatbutts
Summary: Exorcist-in-training Elliott is called in to assist with what turns out to be the worst case of possession he's ever had to contend with.





	Hellfire

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE PLEASE READ!!
> 
> So my beta and I have a discord now!! It's specifically for fans of apex who love dark fiction, so if you like this series it'll be right up your alley!! It was created since I got booted from an apex server for posting noncon so it's to protect us fans who the purity police deem problematic. Nothing is too far and there's specifically a blacklist channel for those of us who love the nastiest of the nasty. :D if the link doesnt cooporate, lemme know and I'll find a way to send it to you ^^  
https://discord.gg/xNkTyCV
> 
> READ ME PLS  
If you're here expecting a part of "Lessons To Be Learned", this isn't connected in any way to that series. This is just the result of me missing my old demon/angel fics I wrote when I was into Supernatural. 
> 
> Thanks to volatileSoloist for being up to reading this mess, it sounds as good as it does because they're a rad beta so thank them for that.

The girl was one of the worst Elliott had ever seen.

When a demon nested in a human, they dug deep into the soul and wrapped themselves around their heart, sinking their teeth in and never wanting to let go. They were like a fungus infecting a tree, spreading to the roots and slowly choking the life from whatever they’d infected. A demon would infest the mind and slowly push out the soul, hacking pieces of it away until it fully consumed them once they were too weak to resist. One could fight back once the disease took hold, if they were strong enough and the battle was made easier by faith, but the demons were smart and selected their targets carefully. The unfaithful, the ill, the meek that had been taken advantage of and the lonely who were a wellspring of negativity that the demons fed on. If a mind was too strong to invade, he knew they’d just whisper promises into their ears, feeding them lies and sowing seeds of doubt and anger. 

They promised the death of an abuser or the vengeance for those who didn’t live to tell their terrible stories. Promises of riches or of a peace they could find nowhere else. They promised strength to fight against the evils of the world knowing the victim wouldn’t consider that evil was a matter of perspective and that demons knew no such word. They pretended to be the voices of angels, sweetly singing stories of saints and how they were one of God’s chosen few, that they were  _ special _ . Children held special value to the demons as their brains could not fight off the possession and the death of a child was devastating enough to those around them to be seen as a victory on its own. This girl was no more than 14 and it was truly a miracle she had survived this long.

She showed all the classic signs he’d seen before along with a few others that were more worrisome. Her skin had gone grey like a corpse and veins in her neck bulged under the skin. She was thrashing against the bindings and Elliott felt the same pang of guilt he always did, knowing they would scrape all the skin away and some nearly down to the marrow if the demon thought it would free them. Their seizures could break bones if they weren’t properly restrained. Her screams echoed off the walls, wailing that changed from that of a frightened child to something more sinister. It would take on a brassy tone and the screams would morph into threats of hellfire and pain only to turn back to the begging and pleading from the girl.

No one could survive a possession without intervention. The human body could not sustain the demon and eventually it would either rush to find a new target or drag the soul back down with them. They couldn’t exist without a host and the more powerful the demon the quicker it burned through bodies. For a child like this to have lived so long the demon couldn’t have been very powerful. It was a small blessing but one that Elliott welcomed happily, relieved to find something that would make this end faster and hopefully raise the odds of the girl walking away relatively unharmed. 

He wasn’t a fully trained exorcist yet as he had several more years of study before proving himself and being ordained. It was years of study with hours upon hours of practical exams and attending sessions to follow the priest and memorize the many steps and incantations required to expel a demon. Latin texts and piles of old yellowed books went with him everywhere he went, and he’d be up into the early hours of the morning reciting prayers and practicing ritual set ups. While church had been present throughout his life, it had never played a major part in his beliefs or in dictating his actions. His mother would drag all her children on Sunday’s and he’d bow his head at funerals or family dinners, but it was the extent of his own personal practice for a very long time. Like his brothers, he’d stopped going once he entered highschool and left his mother to attend services alone, only agreeing to come along when Christmas or Easter came. It could be dreadfully boring, but even when he’d had his doubts he’d always been able to admire the dedication of others in their pursuit to help anyone they could. 

Everything changed once the wars came. His brothers had been among the first to sign up, promising both their mother and Elliott they’d all come back together once it was all over. They’d sent letter after letter, telling stories of the awful nights they’d fought through and how happy they were knowing that they’d be discharged soon. Elliott’s mother wrote back the very same day and he’d send his own letters, telling them not to worry so much and that the two of them would be fine. The letters would fluctuate and some months barely any came when they were thrust into a particularly nasty fight, but others they came by every week and they could hardly keep up. They’d been broken up into different platoons and taken on different roles so Elliott heard stories of the war from many different perspectives, all as terrible as the other. 

Eventually, the letters stopped coming. Elliott had tried to console his mother, but she buried herself into her work and started asking him to come to church with her again. He’d been hesitant, but when an official arrived at their door one morning to inform them all three were officially classified as missing in action he’d gone without complaint. Friends and were all quick to reach out and try to comfort him and his mother, but their words stung despite their good intentions. It was more or less the same, saying they were free from those awful battlefields, or that at least they died for a good cause. He’d learned to hate the phrase “I understand how you feel”, and had to stop himself from lashing out, screaming back at them that they shouldn’t have had to die at all. 

Initially he’d only gone for his mother’s sake. Giving her a shoulder to cry on and a reassuring squeeze of her hand was all he felt he could do. When the priest spoke at their funerals, for once the words he spoke didn’t seem pitying or forced. Instead of speaking of their deaths, he spoke about how they were still together and now they would live waiting until the day they could see Elliott and his mother again. He wasn’t sad at all. Somehow his eyes had lit up and he led everyone in a psalm, one filled with hope and a peace that Elliott had never felt before. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, like the gloom that had followed him was slowly fading away. For the first time since he was a kid, he joined in on the song. When they finished, he couldn’t help the smile that eased its way onto his face. A warmth that he now always carried with him bloomed in his chest, and after the service he’d walked up to the priest and asked what he had to do to join their ranks. 

Originally he’d enjoyed teaching the classes for the young children who came to their sunday school. Being the youngest sibling and the joker that he was lent itself well to teaching the kids, as he’d never quite fully grown up himself and the kids would be in stitches after their lessons. Despite not having any formal teaching experience, he found a way to spin stories that related to the passage he was explaining in such a way he managed to keep even the older kids enraptured. His brothers had always goofed off in school, turning presentations into dramatic productions and he’d loved joining in. The parents didn’t always appreciate how riled up their kids would be afterwards, but the kids would leave with big smiles that warmed his heart. 

He would have been content to stay as a teacher, but God had decided to put him on a darker path. One of the boys had started acting out, both in class and at services. He’d curse and insult his parents and the other students before he eventually turned violent. Elliott was extremely worried for the child since he was usually rather shy and kept to himself, not a monster like he’d been acting. The head priest asked Elliott to come in late on a Sunday, saying it had something to do with the boy. When he showed up he’d been greeted by the awful sounds of him screaming and lashing out at one of the priests, trying to beat the old man senseless. Without hesitating Elliott had run up and grabbed the boy, calling his name and wrapping him up in his arms to calm him. The boy had paused, face screwing up in confusion as he asked what was happening to him. Elliott had told him it would be okay, promising that he wouldn’t let him get hurt and that he just needed to breathe, just like his mother used to do for him when he would have panic attacks. The head priest was in awe at how fast he’d managed to bring the boy back, and as they took him away to proceed with the ritual he’d pulled Elliott aside and explained. 

The boy was possessed, something Elliott had always thought to be a myth. He stood there transfixed as the priest told him how he’d never seen someone bring the human back into full control once the demon emerged, and that Elliott must have had a gift. He agreed to help with the exorcism even though he was secretly terrified, and had nearly cried in relief when the boy left safely in the morning. Afterwards, the priest offered to teach Elliott and help him become certified so he could go save others from the clutches of such disgusting beasts. Elliott accepted, and had been the first to respond to a call ever since. He wouldn’t run and leave the girl even if the sight of her eyes rolled into the back of her skull was disturbing and the grinding of her teeth rang in his ears. It was an awful, exhausting job at times, but he was proud to have been chosen if it meant he could help people in their greatest time of need. For now he was only an observer, but he looked forward to the day he’d train his own apprentices and be able to help whoever came to him. 

Now he stood in the church’s basement with his head bowed, whispering prayers for the girl along with the priest. There were many dangers an exorcist had to contend with but most frightening of all was the possibility of the demon leaping into them when they were too exhausted to fight any longer. The more people they had praying, the stronger the exorcist’s will to keep fighting and the weaker the demon would get. Holiness was a poison to them and it burned if they were exposed to it. Inside the girl, the demon was safe from it, but when it was extracted it would likely panic and try to find someone else before it was dragged back down where it belonged. The prayers were as much for the exorcists’ safety as the victims’, as the whispered prayers and strength of belief made them undesirable targets.

Feeling a demon’s power was something that he’d never get used to. Elliott could feel it all the way down into his bones, a feeling of something crawling under the skin and that moved up his body. It turned his blood to ice and the wet cold wrapped around him in a tight embrace, but it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before and discomfort was nothing compared to what the girl was going through. 

“Elliott!”

He moved his focus from the girl to the head priest who waved him over towards the head of the girl. He swallowed nervously and quickly walked over being careful to avoid her hands which groped wildly at the air, desperate to latch onto something.

“She’s fighting hard but she won’t last much longer,” the head priest was sweating, the exertion of beating back the demon clearly getting to the elderly man, “I need your help if we are to save this girl. Are you prepared?”

“Yes Father, what do I need to do?”

“Place your hand on mine. You will feel its power much more once you do, so be ready and remember your training. You must push back against it, your will must be stronger than its.” 

Elliott took in a deep breath, pushing aside the fear that lingered and sent a silent prayer upward for the girls soul to safely return. A warm feeling grew from his chest and chased the cold away from his body. His faith was comforting, serving as a reassurance that God was still looking down and giving all in the room the strength needed to save this poor child. 

Immediately after he made contact with the priest a sharp pain shot up his arm; the demon was trying to distract him and leave him vulnerable and open so it could take root in him instead. He pushed back, not allowing the pain to break his concentration and interrupt his prayers. He felt the temperature of the room raise just slightly, but it was a sign that they were now on the offense. The head priest noticed it too and chanted louder in a firm, confident voice. The deacons around the girl perked up too, hope filling the room like a flood. 

“Sancte Michael Archangele defende nos in prolio…”

Elliott had lost count of how many times he’d heard the prayer, but each time it was spoken he felt just a bit stronger. He himself was forbidden from reciting it until he was ordained, as invocating an archangel was something he was not ready for. Still, he knew it by heart and followed along silently. 

“... auxilium hominum, quos Deus imaginem…”

_ Wait... _

Something was wrong.

“...tibi tradidit Dominus animas redeptorum…”

Something was very,  _ very  _ wrong.

“... Deprecare Deum pacis…”

Elliott had heard the prayer a thousand times before.

“...sub pedibus  **nostris** …”

He knew the voice of the head priest well.

“... **offer nostras preces** …”

That was  _ not his voice.  _

Elliott’s head snapped up and looked upon the room in horror. They had succeeded in pulling the demon from the girl, but they had failed to bind it. The deacons looked up at the figure that came from the shadows that collected above the girl’s chest and recoiled at the thing as it stepped out from her.

Elliott couldn’t see its face, but he knew it was the demon who spoke the words. It exaggerated them in a mocking tone, reciting the prayer that should have burnt their tongue and have them crying out in pain. Instead the demon shrugged it off like it was nothing and kept reciting the prayer, voice growing louder with each word.

“... **ut cito anticipent nos misericordiae Domini...”**

_ This can’t be happening! _

Elliott drew back, legs shaking as the cold seeped back under his skin. This was something that was supposed to be impossible. No demon should have been able to recite a prayer, especially not one used to banish it. 

“. **.. qui est diabolus et Satanas…** ”

He squeezed his eyes shut, not believing what he saw. His eyes had to be lying. This all had to just be a dream. 

“...  **ut non seducat amplius gentes…”**

He clasped his hands over his ears, trying desperately to shut out the voice that wormed its way into his head no matter what he did.

** _“_ ** ** _Amen!”_ **

As the demon spoke the final words Elliott felt a great force push against his chest. There was no time to brace before he went flying backwards and cracked his head hard enough against the wall that stars danced across his vision. The others were blown back too, each smashing into the wall and slumping lifeless to the ground. The priest was left standing, somehow still having a last burst of strength to resist it and held out his cross defiantly. The demon just turned with a smile and stretched out its hand towards the priest. Its fingertips brushed the silver, and although its flesh hissed and bubbled, it just kept smiling down at the priest. Elliott saw the priests face break for just a moment, but it was all the opening the demon needed. With a flick of the wrist the priest was thrown back and hit the wall with a sickening crunch. Blood trickled down his temple where it had connected and split open the skin. 

No one else moved. The priest was barely breathing and he couldn’t tell if any of the deacons were still alive. His own breathing grew heavy, fear swelling up in his chest as he tried to push himself as far away from the demon as possible, but his back met with only the cinderblock wall. 

It must have heard him scrabbling as it turned slowly to leer down at him. Most of their face was covered by a mask of shadows that hugged the curves of their cheekbones. Two red, large circles shone out from where the eyes should have been and it’s mouth seemed impossibly large. As they smiled he could see a set of wicked canines protruding from its gums. Their body was almost entirely covered by layers of clothing that did little to hide the sheer size of the demon. It was all dark greens and browns like a hunter’s camouflage, reminiscent of something a bush stalker would wear. Their gaze cut straight through him as they looked him up and down, eyeing him in a way that made his skin crawl. 

“ **Oh, what a surprise. A pretty little bird, dressed up all fancy.”**

**“** Stay back!” cried Elliott, not wanting them to get any closer, “Stay away from me!”

**“Ah, the bird can sing.”**

They stepped off the table and walked towards Elliott, slow and deliberate. With each step his heart began to beat faster and his breathing grew more frantic. His heart felt like it would explode from the sheer terror as it knelt to get a good look at his face. The room grew colder as they drew closer, dropping in temperature until his breath fogged in the air. 

**“Such a beautiful thing you are. A shame to keep it locked away under those ugly robes you wear.”**

They were close enough now that they almost had him trapped against the wall. They looked at him hungrily, licking their bottom lip in such an obscene manner it made Elliott feel dirty just seeing it. 

**“I wonder how beautiful you are underneath them.”**

They reached a clawed hand out to him, and Elliott felt a surge of courage race back into his chest. “No! Don’t touch me!”

He slapped away the demon’s hand and slid out from under them. Quickly, he got to his feet and backed away from it, lips fumbling over the prayers he whispered under his breath. If this thing thought he would go down easily, they were wrong. They may have been powerful, but they were still a demon and he had the home field advantage. They were in a house of God, and while the basement lacked in holy symbols the chapel was covered in them. If he could make it up there, it might be weakened enough that it would start to feel the pain and leave to protect itself. 

Never letting the demon out of his sight he backed up towards the stairs, feeling for the railing with his hands so he didn’t have to turn around. They made no move to follow, and the warmth blossomed again in his heart. They’d succeeded in removing it from the girl and the level of power it controlled meant it couldn’t remain for long. They wouldn’t enter the bodies downstairs as their weakened forms made for unsuitable hosts. 

Eventually as he climbed the demon in the basement was obscured but he was sure it would follow him soon. It was only a matter of time unti-

**“Why do you run?”**

Elliott froze. The voice came from behind him, from  _ within _ the sanctuary. He turned to see it sitting on the altar itself, leaning forward as it spoke.  **“There is nowhere you can go that I can’t follow.”**

Elliott took a step back, bringing his arms up in case they tried to do something. “What are you?”

They stood and walked towards him with the grace of cat stalking a mouse.  **“Humans cannot say my name, but your kind know me as the Hound.”**

“Hound?”

**“Yes,” ** they nodded.

“Who… are you?”

“ **Dear little lamb, that’s not the right question.”**

Demons, as he was taught, were born of Hell or created when an angel rebelled and fell from Heaven. Soulless creatures who were created without hearts, without possibility of goodness or a chance at salvation. Crafted by the Devil himself or forming from the negative emotions of humans to pick away at their souls until they were driven to suicide or committing vile acts against their fellow man. They gambled with the souls they’d traded for, and souls of the pious were the most valuable. But, in rare cases, the soul of a human could be treacherous enough that it would join the ranks of the damned. The soul became infested with such a poison it rotted away, leaving behind a creature that thrived on pain and misery. 

It was extremely rare, something that exorcists prayed they would never encounter, as they were incredibly powerful and because of their rarity, there were only vague records of them. What little there were, were locked away in libraries far out of reach for a student like him. Most simply never lived to tell their story and the host always died soon after, so there was no one left behind to give words of warning. His teacher had mentioned them only once, saying that due to the sheer level of corruption it took for a soul to reach that point, most people couldn’t even comprehend the sins needed to achieve such status. Some sought it out, but most eventually felt remorse when faced with their actions. For someone to become a demon, remorse was a concept so foreign they’d been born unable to understand it. They were an exorcist’s worst nightmare, as their status as a former human made it easier for them to exist on earth compared to natural-born demons of their caliber. 

“I guess the better question is who you were?”

**“Correct, but it is meaningless. Knowing who I am will not save you. There is ** ** _nothing_ ** ** that will save you. Once I find someone I like, I just can’t let them go.”**

They gestured at his body, licking their lips.  **“And you, little lamb, I like you ** ** _very _ ** **much.”**

Elliott tried to keep a level head, but their presence was starting to become overwhelming. He stood strong and stared the demon down, trying to appear braver than he felt. “You can’t have me. You can’t have me or the girl. I pledged my life to God and I will not let you take her.”

They laughed, a deep laugh that shook the very foundations of the church beneath his feet.  **“Oh? And what are you going to do to stop me?”**

It was a fair question, but one Elliott had no answer for. Before he could think of a response they snapped their fingers and he watched one of the deacons rise through the floor. A young man whose name he couldn’t remember, whom he only knew as a devout follower of God who’d never missed a service in his life. He’d always be the first to arrive and the first to offer counsel if someone needed it. His eyes were still shut, but he could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The demon grabbed him by his neck and hoisted him into the air so his feet dangled below him.  **“Well, come then, little lamb, come and save your brother.”**

Elliott ran towards them, intent on pulling the deacon away and somehow saving him from the clutches of such a horror, but before he could reach out to grab him, the demon began to squeeze. He could hear the bones of the young man’s neck as they were crushed into powder with ease. Horrified, he skidded to a stop in front of them, far too close for his comfort. 

**“Ah, too slow.”**

“Why are you doing this?” Elliott’s voice rose as tears filled his eyes.

**“Because the look on your face when you cry is ** ** _divine_ ** **.”**

He grit his teeth, anger coursing through him. “What do you want? What will it take for you to leave this place and these people alone? They’ve done nothing wrong!”

**“Are you offering to make a deal?”**

Elliott drew back, the voice crawling under his skin. “I know your kind deal in souls, and you can’t have mine.”

**“I never said I wanted your soul.”**

“What then? What could you possibly want?”

They tilted their head, contemplating his question for a few moments before answering.  **“You can have the girl and all the rest, if you do one thing for me.”**

“Spit it out. What do I have to do?”

They stood in front of him now and this time Elliott didn’t smack their hand away when they stroked his cheek. They traced their fingers down to his mouth, brushing their thumb over the cupid’s bow and pulled ever-so-slightly on down his bottom lip. His disgust was plain on his face but if they were bothered they didn’t show it.  **“You can have them, if you show me what a lifetime of being on your knees has taught you.”**

It took a second to register exactly what they meant, and he jerked back away from them. Rage bubbled up into his throat while disgust spreading through his body, revolted that it would make such a demand. “No! No, I… I can’t do that. I made a vow, I can’t break it.”

**“Then they will die.”**

The demon turned towards the stairs, but Elliott grabbed their arm. “Wait!”

They brushed off his hand and looked down at him.  **“Have you changed your mind so soon?”**

“I…” he started, voice wavering, “If I do this… the others will live?”

**“Yes. I won’t lay a hand on them.”**

Elliott hated that he was even considering their offer, but fought back the parts of his mind that protested. 

_ Better if it’s only me than all of them. _

“How do I know you’re not lying? That’s what your kind does, how can I trust you?”

Hound put a hand over where their heart used to be, and their voice took on a more serious tone.  **“It means little to you, but my word is my bond. I cannot touch them once I make such a promise.”**

The voices in his head were raging, reminding him how sacred the vows he’d taken were and how by breaking them he was essentially turning his back on God, but he pushed them all down. If this was the only way to save everyone else then there was nothing else he could do. The God he knew was a loving one, and a loving God would never damn someone to Hell for saving more of his flock. Elliott’s mind was made up, and as disgusting as what the demon asked for was, he couldn’t let anyone else die.

_ I’m sure He will forgive me... _

Elliott’s voice broke as he talked, as if trying to prevent him from giving in, “Let’s… let’s go somewhere else then. I’ll do what you want, so let’s just go.”

**“No. We do it here.”**

“No! This is a chapel, I can’t-”

**“Then they die. Make your choice, or stop wasting my time.”**

Elliott shuddered, thinking of what he had to do. He didn’t even know what he was doing, and doing it here was even more unthinkable, but his pride wasn’t worth the lives of others. He would find a way to cope, no matter how much he hated himself for it. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Their smile grew larger, exposing the canines even further and Elliott felt like they were peeling his clothes off with their eyes. They walked up the steps to the altar and stood beside it, waiting for him to follow. He put his hand on the gold cross he wore under his shirt and moved to pull it off when they stopped him.  **“No, leave it on.”**

They pulled it out so it hung loosely in front of him, glinting in the light that filtered in from the stained glass. Elliott had knelt before this same altar many times before, praying for guidance for himself or another troubled soul. Fear of God was something every faithful person knew well, but he’d never known such a fear like this. The sheer magnitude of it was overwhelming, crushing the hopes that tried to rise from his chest and smothering any prayers before he could utter them. The demon kept the sneer on their face, putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing down with immense strength. Elliott’s knees buckled under the weight and struck the wooden floor hard enough to draw out a small whimper of pain from behind his clenched teeth. Reacting, he realized, was a mistake, and a big one at that. They immediately seized him by the jaw and pinched hard, painfully forcing his mouth open no matter how he tried to resist. With their free hand they undid the ties on their pants, and Elliott fought back a sob, scared it would just spur them on even more. He squeezed his eyes as tight as he could, not wanting to look at the creature in the eyes.

His heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his fingertips and hear blood rushing in his ears. How was he supposed to do this? What was he supposed to do? Elliott had known temptation before, like any human would, but this was different entirely. There was no desire to do this that he had to push down. What he  _ was _ suppressing was instead the urge to turn around and bolt, to leave the others behind for his own sake. A purely selfish act, but something he desired nonetheless. 

**“You seem confused. Here, I will help.”**

Before he had time to consider what they meant, a hand grabbed hold of his hair and the head of their cock pushed past his lips, sliding effortlessly into his mouth. The sudden violation made him want to gag, but the more he resisted the tighter their grip on his head and the further into his mouth they pushed. By the time the tip of his nose brushed their crotch, the sheer size of them had brought an ache to his jaw, and it was impossible to breathe with it so far in his throat. He tried to gasp in a breath around it, but his throat just tightened and the demon sighed in pure bliss. The lack of air was making him panic, but the more he fought the harder they pushed. 

Finally after what seemed like an eternity, they wrenched his head back and he wheezed, desperate for air, grimacing at the strands of saliva that hung from their cock and connected with his lips. The break was short-lived as they soon guided his head back, groaning as they began to slide his head up and down their shaft. His mouth was slick and they’d forced his throat to open, making every stroke go down more easily than the last. He could feel the drool as it leaked from his mouth and down to his chin, dripping onto his robes and splattering onto the base of the altar. Still he refused to open his eyes and tried to shut out the sounds the demon was making along with the thudding every time they struck the back of his throat. 

**“Aahh, I knew you’d be a natural. God gave you such a pretty mouth for a reason.”**

Elliott tried to beat down his shame, his disgust, his…  _ arousal.  _ Something about the way they were using him, the complete helplessness, and the praise worked its way inside his body and coiled in his gut. It should have been impossible for him to feel anything besides loathing towards the demon, and yet here it was. He felt his own cock twitch, responding to the abuse against his own will. The voice of temptation whispered in his ear, telling him to go slack, just be their cocksleeve or reach his own hand down to release the pressure that was building there. It disguised itself as a voice of reason, and Elliott wanted to believe that it was the right thing to do. 

_ “It’ll make this all end sooner,”  _ it said,  _ “just give them what they want. If you admit you enjoy it, they’ll come sooner.” _

As they pushed their cock down into his throat again, he slipped his tongue out and brushed it gently against the base, just grazing the top of their sack. The demon moaned, the sound echoing in the church, and Elliott swore he could hear a smile amid the noise. It was uncomfortable and forcing his mouth to open wider caused the pain to grow, but if it meant it would end sooner he could bear it a little longer. 

**“Well, you are ** ** _quite_ ** ** the fast learner.”**

They unwound their fingers from his hair and placed their hand on the top of his head, content to let him do the rest of the work. Elliott froze for a moment, but forced himself to keep going. He tried to think of the ones bleeding downstairs to quell the growing fire, but it was too hard to think while trying to keep his hands planted on his thighs. They ached to slide under his robes and for a moment he wondered what him sighing around their cock would sound like, or how the vibrations of his throat from moaning would make the demon feel. He had to stop himself from slapping his own cheek, desperate to be free of the sinful desires that wouldn’t stop pouring into his mind. He longed for the pain to clear his thoughts, until the voices began to whisper how nice it would be instead to feel the sting of their palm against his face, how much they’d love it if he walked away with a black eye. 

**“Oh ** ** _Alföðr_ ** **,” ** they said,  **“How I’ve ** ** _missed this_ ** **.”**

Unable to keep up the fast pace on his own Elliott slowed his movements, drawing out each stroke and running his tongue along the underside of their cock. 

They chuckled and Elliott could feel them staring down at him, amused at how quickly he’d caught on. 

**“I haven’t had a human like you in so long. I forgot how much better the self hatred makes you feel.”**

Elliott tried not to react and keep his face steady, unsure of what exactly they meant. He felt them shift and he imagined they’d leaned back against the altar, happily watching as he made a mess of himself. 

**“I used to hunt down your kind, you know. You branded me and my people as pagans, apostates, ** ** _heretics. _ ** **You demanded we bow at your thrones and worship your God, threatening that He would strike us down.”**

They laughed darkly,  **“Well tell me, where is he now?”**

Elliott tried to shut out their voice, but it had a peculiar way of digging into him which made ignoring it impossible.

**“I took it upon myself to wipe your kind from his earth, to burn your churches and cut down those who escaped the flames. Your priests begged for their lives, renouncing your God and kneeling, as you do now. When I grew tired of fucking their mouths, I just cut their throats to enjoy that instead.”**

Elliott wanted to clamp his hands over his ears as he tried not to beg them to stop, imagining the gore and wanted to claw at his eyes if it would stop him from seeing what they described. He was crying now, hot tears running down his cheeks.

**“Some offered ** ** _more_ ** ** than just their mouths. Your churches are built for your songs of praise, so the chorus of moaning and pleas for me to keep going sounded beautiful. They all begged for more, in the end.”**

Their voice was growing tight, and Elliott could feel them shuddering against him. As they spoke, their words were punctuated by small gasps and shivers.

**“And ** ** _you… oh_ ** ** you’ve been ** ** _such_ ** ** a ** ** _good boy_ ** **… ** ** _ah_ ** **…”**

Without warning, they grabbed his hair and tugged, hard. The sudden jolt of pain caught him off guard and he opened his eyes. He saw the lustful look on their face and he winced as they pulled his hair harder, averting his eyes in shame.

**“** ** _Look at me,”_ ** they hissed.

Against his own will, he obeyed. As he did, their hips jerked forward—the sight of him covered in drool with swollen, red lips and tear-filled eyes finally pushing them over the edge—and their cock spasmed, filling his mouth with come and his ears with their cries of pleasure as they reached their climax. They pulled him off and pushed his head down lower as they came on his face, and smiled when he flinched as it hit near his eye. When they finally stopped and stood panting, Elliott tried to open his mouth to spit it out and be rid of it, but they hoisted him up to his feet and pressed their hand to his lips. Looking up through tear-filled eyes, he swallowed, hating how the pleased look on their face made his own cock grow harder. 

They tilted their head as they looked down at him, red eyes piercing right through him.  **“Who is the heretic now?”**

They shoved him aside and he couldn’t catch himself in time to stop from falling. He sat up, heart beginning to fill back with rage. The indignity of being used as a plaything and being promptly discarded clouded his mind, and he hissed back at them in anger. “At least my God is the right one. Yours abandoned you to Hell where you belong.”

The venom-filled words didn’t have the effect he’d hoped for. Instead, their smile grew wide enough that it looked like a dog baring its teeth.  **“Oh, did they now?”**

They walked over and squatted down to meet his eyes.  **“Or did they allow me to keep disgracing your kind, even beyond death? To let you know that despite all your vows and vestments and sanctimonious behavior, you’re still nothing more than a common whore.**

**“My gods are still very much alive, little lamb,” ** they sneered,  **“You are the one who has been abandoned, not me.”**

They lifted the cross from his chest, now splattered with come and brought it to their lips.  **“I just hope He enjoyed the show as much as I did.”**

With their final, damning words left hanging in their air, they straightened up and walked down the aisle, leaving Elliott behind at the altar trying to find a retort. They raised their hand in a mock wave and stepped into the shadows of one of the archways.

**“Sjáumst síðar.”**

In an instant they were gone, dissolving into the dark. Elliott was still trying to process everything they’d said, and everything he’d just done. He looked up to the cross that hung on the wall, once a shining beacon of hope, now seemed so lifeless. It had always been enough to let the hope pour back in, feel the comforting warmth that would push away his doubts and let him know he was on the right path. It had gotten him through his worst days, remembering there was someone smiling down at him, proud and keeping watch.

There was nothing there now. Just a dead, hollow, void in his chest and nothing else. The cross was just a wooden carving. The altar, just a barren stone table. Elliott rose to his feet, numbness consuming him with every step he took towards the doors. The carpet muffled his footsteps, but he could still hear them ringing off the walls as he trudged forward. His body felt heavy, unnaturally so. He clasped the brass doorknob in his hand and turned it, not even shivering as a cold wind blew into the sanctuary. He took a step out into the snow, but he knew something that had to be done before he could take another. 

He felt around his chest for the golden cross, and tore the cord from his neck without looking down at it. He held his arm out to the side and dropped it, barely registering the clinking noise as it hit the pavement. The others were still in the basement, but he couldn’t muster up the strength to face them. He’d call for an ambulance so they’d still be taken care of, but he couldn’t look any of them in the eye. They’d know something was wrong, see something in his eyes that wasn’t quite right and know he wasn’t one of them anymore. Someone covered in such  _ filth  _ shouldn’t even be allowed to stand in the doorway, so he’d do them a favor and stop disgracing such a holy place with his presence. The lessons of the church said anyone could be saved if they asked God to forgive them, but Elliott was at a loss of what to do. How could He forgive the unforgivable? How was he supposed to ask for forgiveness for something he was forced to do? 

Elliott wiped his face with his sleeve and looked back into the sanctuary. The calm, peaceful face of Christ on the paintings seemed to leer down at him the same way they had. The paintings eyes seemed to be wrinkled in repugnance, so Elliott bowed his head and turned away to spare them such a disgusting sight. Wind blew through his hair and his breath fogged in the cold air, chill beginning to nip at his ears. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he stepped away from the church, walking out into the cold. He couldn’t bear to look at the cemetery as he passed, unwilling to soil the hallowed ground any longer. Elliott hugged himself as the wind bit through the robes and thought of what the others would think when they awoke and he wasn’t there. Would they panic and try to reach out to him? Would they scour the church grounds, hoping they’d find him still breathing?

_ It doesn’t matter now…  _

It would have been better if they’d found him dead, head split open on the wall or torn apart by the demon. At least then they’d think he’d died whole, and they’d wish him well as he was finally united with his brothers again. 

But Elliott wasn’t so lucky, and he knew deep down that when death came for him, he wouldn’t be seeing his brothers any time soon. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Ay how goes it this was supposed to be a short little throw away since I realized how much I missed writing blasphemous demon sex but instead it got way longer and I'm not sorry. I've always been a massive sucker for anything with religious themes since I find the history of religion really cool (especially the Abrahamic ones), so this is what I used my World Religion classes for :D thanks Mr. K :D 
> 
> I'm still working on the next part of the series, I just wanted to be especially self-indulgent with something and that's why this exists. I've been working on other self indulgent stuff for other fandoms too so I've been bouncing back and forth. It should be out soonish so it won't take a month for the next part I promise. I'm supposed to take it easy since I've got trigger finger in both hands (aka my fingers lock when I bend them) but I'm doing physiotherapy so it won't hinder my ability to type. 
> 
> I've been leaning so heavily towards psychological abuse recently because I can't torture Elliott the same way I can with an angel or in a different setting. If you want to see the most brutal stuff I've ever written (trigger warning for like, everything) I have something called House of the Rising Sun which is like 40,000 words of self indulgent torture porn. I wrote it like four years ago so lol it's not the greatest but it's still fun. 
> 
> I still have some ideas floating around for random Apex one-shots depending on how mean I feel like being (Octane's gonna get it basically). IDK we'll see anyway Ciao stay safe kids  
-P


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